Kill Jace
by ClutzQueen
Summary: Clary was killed on her wedding day. That's all she remembers. When she wakes from a coma four years later, she decides to seek revenge upon the people who destroyed her life. Kill Bill X The Mortal Instruments. Rated T for course language, adult themes and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Readers**

**This is my first TMI fic, and I wanted it to be memorable. So I took the plot from Kill Bill and mashed it with our favourite TMI characters.**

**Haha. If you guys know how Kill Bill goes, you know exactly what is going to go down. If you don't, well, it'll be fun for you to find out.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**-ClutzQueen**

I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding a lot.

That's all my brain can seem to comprehend. Blood. Red flashes behind my eyelids. I'm reaching for Simon's hand, trying to find him. Maybe he isn't dead. I'm not. He can survive if I can, right?

There are five people standing over me. Their faces show no emotion. They don't even seem to care about what they've done.

My body is going into shock. My vision is going double. I'm dying. I know I'm dying.

_No. You are not going to die, you coward. Get up. Get up, god damn it!_

The raven-haired girls smirks at me, "Not so high and mighty now, are we Clarissa?"

"Isabelle," a quiet voice silences her. The semicircle around me opens and an angel appears over me. A blonde halo of hair floats around his face. His gorgeous face glows with beauty. He is the boy I fell in love with. He is the boy that I still love.

He is holding a gun.

He was never one for guns. I can't quite comprehend it. _Guns are a cowards weapon, _he always told me.

He takes something out of his pocket- a handkerchief. A god-damn handkerchief. He dabs gently at my face with it. It stings. I gasp slightly.

"Shh," he hushes, stroking a finger down my face, "It's okay Clary. Its okay."

"Why?" I gasp.

"Because I want you. Because you left me for a _mundane,"_ he golden eyes flashed, "Because if I can't have you, no one can."

He pockets the handkerchief and clicks the safety off the gun.

I try and reach for him. I can't move my arms. _I can't move my arms._ I can't move anything. My body is dead. Only my mind is still working.

I hiss my last words out through my teeth, "Jace…it's _your _baby…"

Then he shoots me. Clean through the head. And everything goes black.

Six faces flash in the darkness of my vision.

Isabelle Lightwood.

Magnus Bane.

Sebastian Morgenstern.

Maia Roberts.

Alec Lightwood.

And Jace, beautiful Jace, _my _Jace.

They are the people that killed me.

They are the people that destroyed everything I loved.

_And I will have my revenge._

**Shit just got real. See you real soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two. Read, review, and enjoy. I forgot to add a disclaimer in the last chapter, so here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I own non of the Kill Bill plot or TMI characters.**

I'll tell you chief, I ain't seen anything like it."

Chief Luke Garroway was staring at the corpse of the red haired girl lying on the floor of the chapel. The walls were painted with blood. Constable Alaric was babbling on behind him, but he was beyond listening. The scene was horrific. Her groom to be lay a little to the left- identified as Simon Lewis, a small time business owner and former lead singer of a band Garroway couldn't remember the name of- with his head near separated from his neck. Their wedding guest- all Lewis's, Alaric had told him, were all dead, beyond medical treatment. It had been a massacre. No one had escaped not even the priest.

When had Luke staring at the bride was the bullet wound disfiguring her otherwise pretty face. Every other death in this church was so controlled, a blade to neck of to the back of the head, all instantly deadly. The congregation wouldn't have known what had hit them. But the bride- her injures were multiple. She had been bashed around, played with. And the bullet wound to the temple…

This death, out of all of them, had been personal.

What he found most interesting was the entry point of the bullet. It had almost been like her killer couldn't bring himself to kill her. His bullet had only gone in the side of her head, rather than a safer shot right in the centre of her forehead.

It was very strange.

"Sir, the paramedics want to take the bodies," Alaric called from the doorway.

"Take 'em," Garroway called, 'All but the bride. I want to look at 'er a little longer."

Stretchers began moving through the building, taking bodies into the multiple ambulances outside. When they rolled Lewis onto the stretcher, his head nearly came off entirely. Garroway flinched. His heart ached at the thought of a couple's happiest day in their existences being obliterated like this.

Garroway moved around to the bride left side. He felt her cheek. Cold as ice. Her eyes were closed. Blood stained the floor around her, as red as her hair. Her dress was wet with the stuff. He wondered who could possibly want an innocent girl like her dead.

Constable Alaric came up behind him, "Sir, what's your opinion?"

"It was done by professionals," Garroway said immediately, "You can tell by the cleanliness of the carnage."

Alaric looked around at the bloodstained, dripping walls, "Um…okay sir, whatever you say…"

"All but this girl. This pretty little bride," Garroway shook his head, 'I'm stumbled Al. I've never seen anything like this before."

Alaric cleared his throat, "Sir, I've been talking to the paramedics. Turns out we can identify her as a Tessa Gray. She's been in and out of hospital for the last few months. Last they saw her, she was seven months pregnant."

Garroway let out a hollow laugh, 'This girl ain't pregnant, Al. She's the skinniest girl I've seen in a long time, actually."

"There's no doubting it sir. I'm as confused as you are."

Garroway ran his fingers across her stomach, stopping at an almost invisible slit in her white dress. Someone had cut her open with such precision there was hardly blood on her dress where her stomach was. Someone had taken a baby out of her- cut her open almost invisibly.

Garroway thought, for the first time in his policing life, that he was going to be sick.

"Who would want to murder such a beautiful…_pregnant…_woman on her wedding day?" he asked no one in particular.

The brides body suddenly spasmed. Jerked. A hacking noise gurgled from the back of her throat and red gunk ejected from her mouth, splattering across Garroway's face.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, 'Get over here! She's alive! _She's alive, god damn it!"_

Paramedics ran to him. A single breath rattled from her lungs. The hospital team moved quickly, rolling the girl onto a stretcher, attaching an oxygen mask to her face, then pressing down on the wound on her stomach as it began to bleed once again. As they prepared to cart her outside, Garroway shoved his way toward the bride, feeling cruel, but needing information, "Who killed everyone? Who attacked you, Tessa? Who?"

The girl opened her mouth again, and a crackling noise came out. A parmedic pushed him angrily away and they carted her out of the chapel.

Garroway stared away them, then took out a tissue and wiped off his face. He looked behind him to the giant cross at the back of the chapel. He wasn't Christian- he only went to church on Christmas. But he kneeled down anyway.

_God be with that girl. God give her mercy._

**_Dun-dun-dun. _Clary Fray is still alive. Shocker.  
**

**I hope you enjoyed this update. More to come soon. Next chapter, enter Isabelle Lightwood (she's the psychopathic bitch of this story, BTW. In case you hadn't guessed).**

**-ClutzQueen**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey Readers**

**Enjoy this update. Obviously the characters are majorly OOC, though there are still some qualities thy had from TMI. Mostly arrogance. Its a Shadowhunter thing.**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing. Lets go.**

Isabelle Lightwood had always hated Clarissa Fray.

The redhead hadn't known it, of course, but Isabelle had wanted her to die since the day she arrived at the Institute to join the Deadly Shadowhunter Assassination Squad. She used to be Jace's favourite- Clary changed all that. Isabelle was shoved down a spot, and Clary took over, all because Jace wanted to screw her.

Okay, not quite true. If screwing Jace was all it took to get on top, Isabelle would have done it in a heartbeat. But there was something _special _about Clary. Something that caught Jace's eye and held it. No girl held Jace's eye for more than two seconds. That was one thing, she guessed, that the red head midget had going for her.

She was in a closet, stripping off her leather outfit and shimmying into some fat nurses outfit. It hung of her like a sack. She wrapped a snakeskin belt around the outfit to tighten the waist and tied up her hair, then adjusted the nurses hat on her ebony coloured hair. Her golden whip was coiled around her arm, but she wasn't planning on using that. A tray of greenish liquids was arranged on the tray in front of her. She had purposely chosen poisons that would burn themselves out- it would just look like poor Clarissa Fray had been through too much to survive.

She skipped out of the closet and tramped confidently down the corridor, pushing her cart full of needle in front of her. She went past the receptionist, who didn't even look up, and then down through the set of doors that lead to a _Tessa Gray_'s private room.

_Little snivelling coward wasn't even brave enough to use her own name._

Isabelle stopped her cart and pushed aside the curtains surrounding the bed in the centre of the room. Clary looked mostly dead, with skin whiter than ever and dark shadows around her eyes. The bloody bride's gown was gone, and she was wearing a blue hospital dress. Her flaming hair spread out on the pillow around her, brushed free of its usual kinks and knots. The only clue she was still alive was the beeping machine beside her, and the slight, up-down movement of her now un-pregnant chest.

Isabelle smiled down at the girl, "You know, I think I like you better like this," she told the unmoving girl, "You're a lot quieter. Prettier too."

Clary did not respond. Isabelle picked up one of the needles and skirted a little out of the end, like she'd seen in movies, "I always hated you, you know. You always thought I was your bestie, but I despised you and you're pathetic control over Jace. But I do respect you, midget. That's why I'm giving you this gift. Dying in our sleep is a luxury our kind is rarely afforded. So farewell forever, Fray."

She leaned over and pressed the needle to the girl's arm, ready to insert it. She smiled wide.

Then her phone buzzed in her pocket and ruined everything.

She groaned, put the needle down on the pillow and answered it, 'Jace, what the hell do you want?"

"Hello to you too, Iz. How is she?"

"Comatose," Isabelle leaned back on the wall, "Not for long."

"Sorry Iz, but she'll be staying that way for now. Abort mission."

"What?" Isabelle cried into the phone, 'Are you _kidding _me?"

"We owe her better than that."

"We owe her nothing!" Isabelle shouted, "By the Angel, Jace, just 'cause you couldn't _shot _her when you had the chance…"

"Keep your god damn voice down. May I say one thing?"

"Speak, leader."

"Get out of there. We beat the shit out of that girl, I put a bullet in her head but we couldn't kill her. Her heart just kept beating. You can see that yourself, can't you? We've done a lot of things to Clary Fray. If she ever wakes up, we'll do a whole lot more. But we don't sneak into her room and kill her while she's got her eyes closed. That's about as cowardly as pretending your name is _Tessa Gray _and marrying a mundane. Don't you agree, Izzy?"

Isabelle sighed, "God damn you Jace."

"I'll take that as a yes," Isabelle could hear his smile, "Come on home, sister."

"Affirmative, brother."

"Alec misses you."

"Tell him to get over himself."

"Will do. Love you."

Isabelle hung up and stared down at Clary's frail frame. She could disobey orders and kill her anyway. Jace would forgive her, eventually.

But Isabelle Lightwood was not a coward.

She leaned down and put her lips to Clary's ear, "They say people in a coma can still hear you. Well, word of advice hon. Don't you ever wake up. Because if you do, I'll be at the foot of your bed with a knife, and I'm gonna make _sure_ you don't come back to life."

Clary did not respond.

"Toodles, Tessa Gray," Isabelle patted the girls empty stomach, flicked back he hair and left, pushing the cart of poison in front on her and heel clicking o the hospital tiles.

The heart rate monitor beside Clary's bed accelerated slightly, then when back to its slow pace. And didn't pick up again for the next four years.

**And then four years later...**

**Next chapter coming soon. See you soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

My eyes opened.

The room I was in was dark. There was a beeping machine beside me. An IV drip was in my hand. I was wearing one of those hospital gowns that were open at the back. I can't feel my legs.

But I am alive.

Well, I think I am.

My heart rate monitor started beeping like crazy. I ripped the band connecting it to me off, and it goes flat line. Which probably wasn't the best idea- they probably had monitors of these things, and I'd just died.

I tried to sit up, but my body betrayed me. I close my eyes and tried harder. My body lifts slightly off the bed. I put my hands on my stomach and pushed down, trying to fold my body upward…

My stomach.

My stomach was flat.

My baby was gone.

I screamed. It's the only thing I could think of to do. The scream turned into a wail, the wail turned into a sob. The numbness forgotten, I curl into a ball over my un-existent womb and cry.

_Six faces flash in the darkness of my vision. _

_Maia Roberts. _

_Magnus Bane. _

_Alec Lightwood._

_Sebastian Morgenstern._

_Isabelle Lightwood._

Jace Herondale.

_Jace Herondale._

My fists clenched. My entire body trembled. The tears are gone. I will not cry.

_I will have my revenge._

Heavy footsteps sounded on the hallway. Unable to move, I laid down again, hastily closed my eyes and tried to be as still as possible.

I heard the curtains pull across violently. Someone moved around my bed, and then laughed breathily.

"Now how did that happen?" a deep Spanish voice seemed to taunt me. A hand took my wrist and strapped the machine band back on. The beeping started up. I steadied my breathing.

"Fast," the Spanish voice said to himself, "Congratulations. You could be waking up soon."

I wondered if I should open my eyes, wake up. It'd be a miracle, I would be able to leave, and no one would question me.

Then I tensed as hot pressure was applied to my body as someone climbed on top of me.

"Suppose we should take advantage of the time we have left then, hey sleeping beauty?"

A pair of lips met mine, wrenching them open and something wet entered my mouth. It felt positively repulsive. A pair of hands gripped my chest tightly. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.

I bit down on the tongue, hard, until I tasted blood. I heard a scream tear the through the air like tissue paper and the pressure on me disappeared. My eyes shot open and I spat the blood out of my mouth. A man dressed in blue nurse scrubs, with a nametag reading _Raphael _was clutching his mouth, shrieking at the top of his lungs. My legs found their purpose for one second. I leapt from the bed and I tackled Raphael to the floor. Straddling his legs with my limp ones, I slammed his head against the floor.

"Where is Jace?" I screamed at him, "_What's Jace, you disgusting piece of…"_

"I don't know what you are talking about!" Raphael cried in his heavy accent, "I know no Jace! I am Raphael! Just a nurse!"

"A nurse who thinks _screwing _comatose patients is acceptable?" I shrieked. I shuddered to think of this man and what he had done to me in my unconscious state. I repressed the images to the back of her mind, 'How long have I been in a coma? Where's my baby? _Where's Jace?"_

"I do not know Jace!" Raphael was sobbing, "You have been in this hospital for four years. That's all I know! Please, Please…"

_Four years._

I slam Raphael's head against the floor again, hard, "_Where's my baby?"_

"I know nothing of a baby!"

He was telling the truth. My baby had been taken out of me before I got here.

Raphael whimpered, 'Please, please let me go…"

"Lets see how you like being utterly helpless," I hissed, then, using my elbow, jerked his hips out of their joints. The man screamed in pain as I dragged my self off him and kicked him in the ribs, using all my strength to move my foot. Raziel had taught me how to paralyse people me first day on the job. Raphael wouldn't be feeling his legs for a _very _long time.

I dragged myself out from under the curtains, leaving Raphael screaming behind me. I pulled myself onto a stray wheelchair, hanging my limp legs over the side and carefully driving myself down the hallway. Luckily there was no one at reception to see me escaping. I got to the coat where the doctors hung their coats, paused, then went through each pocket until I came up with a bunch of car keys.

Wheeling myself as fast as I could to the car park, I clicked the button on the bunch until I heard a car blip in the distance. Following the sound, I found myself outside a red coloured sports car with the large words 'Shagin' Wagon' printed along the back. Rolling my eyes, I pulled open the back door and rolled myself across the back seats.

_Okay feet, do your thing._

I tried to wiggle my toes. They didn't move. I closed my eyes and groaned. I tried again, harder. My right foot jerked a tiny bit to the right.

This was going to take a while.

Still pushing to activate the muscles in my foot, I closed my eyes and pictured the last scene I saw before I was shot me through the head.

Six people.

Maia Roberts. Curly brown hair twisted into Bali braids down her stiff shoulders, dark skin matching her deep brown eyes. She wore gold eyeliner and an old denim jack, now splattered with the blood of the wedding reception attendants, and held her shimmering sword by her side, face giving away no hint of emotion.

Magnus Bane. Black hair spiked and filled with glitter. The glitter continued on his body, and his clothes were dark blue and eccentric. He had a couple of facial piercings- his unnaturally green-gold cat-slit eyes were filled with nothing- I was hurt but that. Magnus was always so nice to me. I hoped he would a least feel a little regret in what he was doing to me.

Alec Lightwood. Isabelle brother, with matching black hair, but venomous green eye opposed to her bright blue ones. Magnus's height, with Jace's build, he was the one Clary would have suspected the most of being glad at her demise- the boy had always seemed to hate her. But he wasn't looking he in the face- his eyes were down at the floor. His bow was in his hand, his arrow quiver slung over his shoulder- one of those arrows was sticking out of the throat of Simon's best man, Eric.

Sebastian Morgenstern, Jace's adoptive brother, looked down at me with those black marble eyes. White hair fell in his pale face. I'd called him Vampire behind his back when she'd first joined the Squad. He was the only one of the Shadowhunters who actually scared her. His still, calm face still made me feel sick, and made a shudder run down my spine.

Isabelle Lightwood. Sneer twisting her facial features, blue eyes glaring down at me. Shiny black hair plaited down her back, golden whip coiled around her wrist and red high-heeled shoe brushing my leg.

Jace Herondale. Gold. That was the only way I could think of to describe him. Golden hair. Golden eyes. Golden skin. Golden when he smiled. Golden when he frowned. Golden as he pulled the trigger aimed at my forehead.

Jace, my Jace, my beautiful golden boy Jace.

These are the six people that killed me.

These are the six people that killed my baby.

These are the six people that are going to pay.

I could move my entire right leg now. The numbness fading, I rolled to the front seat, threw open the glove box and rummaged around in it until I found a chewed pencil and an unused notepad. I scribbled down something on one page, then ripped in to and stuck it onto the glove box with an old wad of gum attached to the steering wheel.

Feeling confident with my legs, I swung them around to face the gas pedals and fish tailed out of the parking lot in the Shagin' Wagon.

The list I'd just made flapped in the wind of the open window. It was written in messy text, almost unreadable, but legible enough for me.

**Death List**

**1.**Maia Roberts

**2.**Magnus Bane

**3.**Alec Lightwood

**4.**Sebastian Morgenstern

**5.**Isabelle Lightwood

And last, underlined several times:

**6.**Jace Herondale

_Get ready, Shadowhunters. I'm coming for you._

I pushed down harder on the pedal, flying down the street, to find my killers.

**Okay, just to ****clear things up- this is not a word for word playback of Kill Bill. I'm changing some stuff around, like the Kill List number, order of demise (I love that word) and in some cases death. I'm mostly just using the revenge theme of the story. **

**See you soon! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

I shoved open the door of Diana's Arrow and stormed in, knocking over an arrangement of swords in the process. A dark hair, dark skinned woman appeared at the noise.

"Hey, watch it…" Diana Wrayburn froze at the sight of me. The silver koi fish tattoo on her cheek shone on her skin.

"Hello Diana," I said cheerily, "Remember when I gave you a very special sword and told you to look after it for me?"

Diana's mouth gaped, "Clarissa? Clarissa Fray?"

"I answer to that name," I folded my arms, "I need it back now."

Diana made a small choking noise.

"Look," I said angrily, 'Do you want money? I have a car. What? I just want to get Heosphoros, then leave and you to forget I was ever here. To hard for you, Wrayburn?"

Diana shook her head, "No, I just heard from a source…"

"Your source was wrong. Now give me Heosphoros."

Diana bit her lip, then straightened her shoulders, "I will get it."

She headed out the back. I looked around the weapons store, painful memories burning into me. The day Jace had taken me here to get my first sword. The way he'd talked me through the different types of blades. The way his hand remained on my back the whole time. The way he'd positioned Heosphoros in my hand, finger lingering against my skin.

The fierce way he'd kissed me in the alley outside. That was the first time I'd ever really felt whole. Like my whole world was perfect.

Whatever.

Diana came back with my blade balanced in her shaking hands. Heosphoros was black and gold, about the length of my forearm. A pattern of stars decorated the hilt and blade. It was so dark silver, It looked black- but was so shiny a clean, just as I'd left it, I could still see my reflection in it. With it was the leather scabbard with silver stars stitched up it.

Diana was sweating.

Diana Wrayburn was an incredibly strong woman- one of the toughest Shadowhunters I'd ever encountered. Something had shaken her up bad.

Then I noticed her hand. Or rather, the lack of it.

"Diana," I said slowly, "What happened to your right hand?"

Diana looked like she was about to cry, "Keeping this sword… was a dangerous thing. Sebastian Morgenstern came."

My blood went cold, "What?"

"He demanded your sword. He said you'd left it to him after your…death," Diana bit her lip, "I asked to see the papers. Sebastian got angry. I refused to tell him where the sword was, so he…" Diana trailed of, lifting the prosthetic hand up for me to see, "I thought he'd keep chopping off limbs until I handed it over, but he just left. I haven't seen him since."

"When was this?" I asked her.

"Nearly three years ago," Diana recalled, "Take your sword, Clarissa, but than leave after that, and do not come back. Whatever quarrel you have with Sebastian Morgenstern, I do not wish to be involved again."

"Understood," I nodded, "I apologise that you were ever part of this. I just have some old scores to settle. _Very _old scores."

"To come to reclaim this sword after all these years, I imagine they are very big scores," Diana guessed.

"Huge," I agreed. I took Heosphoros in two hands and held it in the way Jace had taught me, "Thank you, Diana. The Angel be with you."

"May your old scores be settled," Diana smiled at me, "Goodbye, Clarissa."

I nodded, and then left the store. Putting Heosphoros on the passenger seat of the car, I got behind the wheel. My Death List flapped in the wind when I opened my door, then came to a rest. The first name seemed to shine in the streetlight above me.

_Maia Roberts._

Number one.

She would be the easiest to find, I guessed. When one manages the hard task of becoming the Queen of the Lycanthropes, one doesn't keep it a secret, does one?


	6. Chapter 6

_She would be the easiest to find, I guessed. When one manages the hard task of becoming the Queen of the Lycanthropes, one doesn't keep it a secret, does one?_

Maia Roberts did. Finding her was a total pain in the ass. Eventually, I traced here down to an old police station, her new home base. It was a dingy old place, smelt of wet dog and old coffee, and painted a mouldy shade of dark blue. One light was on in the window, but the rest of the building was dark.

I left the car out the front, locking the door after grabbing Heosphoros and tying back my hair in a thick ponytail. My bare feet slapped the ground as I approached the building- my fists stretched, then tightened into fists.

They only uncoiled to press, hard, down on the buzzer of the police station.

Nothing. I rang it again, and then when there was silence, once more.

There was a crashing noise from inside, then loud footsteps heading toward the door. My chest sort of seize up as I prepared myself to face number one on the Death List.

The door opened, "God Jordan, patience is a virtue and all, and it's not like you don't have a key…"

Maia Roberts opened the door the whole way and met my eyes. Hers sparked in recognition. The emotions flashed over her face in an instant- first shock, then confusion, then horror, then angry and then just a flash of fear before returning back to shock.

I took a micro-second to let myself return to that night, four years ago, where I lay in pool of my own blood on the chapel floor and where Maia Roberts stood over me, with her stupid emotionless expression, brandishing her sword. She didn't often use a weapon. She preferred her less…discrete weapon of choice.

"Hello, bitch," I smiled warmly.

Then I punched her right in the face.

She flew back into the building, crashing into a wall and sliding to the floor. I leapt at her, Heosphoros raised to bring down on her skull, but she rolled to the side and jumped to her feet. Placing her feet in a defensive stance, she growled a little, screwing up her face in a snarl.

"Bad doggy," I teased. Flicking my hair back over my shoulder, I matched her stance.

She exploded out at me. Her fingernails tearing and her teeth gnashing, she tackled me to the floor. Her nails had grown into long, sharp claws and the veins on her hands and neck had gone black. Her claws raked along my cheek, and tore into the flesh of my shoulder. I retaliated with a jab of Heosphoros to her stomach, but only caught her in the hip with the hilt as she leapt backward into the hall. She disappeared down it, but I rolled to my feet and chased her down it. She leapt up on the old receptionist desk and jumped over my head to land behind me and kick my in the tailbone. I made a choked gasp noise and toppled over the desk, which Maia promptly ripped out of the floor and threw on top of me. It hurt like a bitch but I managed to roll into a ball and brace myself before it shattered on me like glass. Picking myself out of the wreckage, I found Maia gone again, and turned another corner.

I was in the cellblock now, and Maia stood at the other end, black veins in her neck even darker her eyes were a yellowish colour and her teeth were getting to large for her mouth, her true lycanthrope nature bursting at the seams.

"Hey," I tutted, "Have you no shame? That's cheating, you dog!"

"Deal with it, bitch," Maia snarled, cracking her fingers slowly.

"Whose the bitch?" I snarled right back.

Maia shrieked and threw herself at me, hitting me with a roundhouse kick to the stomach. I flew backwards, but came back quickly, slamming my elbow into her spine and knocking her to the ground. Wrapping my legs around her body, I held her in a chokehold, squeezing down on her neck as she choked helplessly. Her veins went back to their normal colour as she scratched at my arm viciously. I pulled my elbow harder, feeling the air leave her lungs and her oesophagus spasming as she gulped for oxygen.

Something came down, hard, on my back. I shrieked and Maia managed to shove me off her, throwing the stray piece of metal she'd slammed between my shoulder blades aside and repositioning herself.

"Come on, midget," Maia growled, "I'll kill you, you piece of flaming…"

"You thought you could kill me four years ago. You failed," I darted forward- she knocked me back, "What makes you think you'll succeed this time?"

"Because I'm not Jace," she hissed, "And I actually know how to _end _someone properly."

"Yes, how is _Jace?" _I hissed out his name, "Does he know I'm back? Does he know I'm hunting you traitors down, one by one? Does he know I'm hunting _him _down?"

"Whose the traitor?" Maia snarled, "_Tessa Gray?"_

I refused to let emotion show on my face. We taunted each other, Maia coming up with her claws, me flicking Heosphoros at her like a snake.

"Common, dog," I hissed, "_Bring it on._"

Click.

"Maia?"

Maia's eyes widened in terror and her head flicked toward the sound of the male voice. I took the chance to jump her, but she knocked me back easily. Her eyes were pleading- her head shook in a 'no' just slightly.

I turned toward the sound of the approaching footsteps. The male voice was saying, "Maia? Come on, I know you're here…"

Just as the voice rounded the corner, I spun the blade in my fingers and pull it behind my back, standing by Maia. Her claws and teeth shrunk and her eyes went back to their ordinary colour.

When the boy came around the corner, he stopped short. Maia smiled giddily.

"Hi Jordan," she waved heartily.

Jordan looked between us, eyes lingering on me, "Whose this?"

"This is my…old…friend, Tessa Gray," Maia smirked slightly. Did she want me to stab her here and now, "Tessa, this is my…boyfriend. Jordan."

Jordan smiled at Tessa, "Sorry, I haven't heard of you before."

"Please, I'm not that memorable," I smiled at him, "I feel really bad for not staying in touch with Maia. What has it been…four years now?"

Maia grimaced.

"Well, it's great to met you, Tessa," Jordan beamed, "Are you staying for dinner? A couple of the guys wondering if they could…"

"Jordan," Maia said calmly, "Can you go and wait in my room? Please?"

Jordan cocked his head in confusion. He was cute, and didn't look at all like the werewolf men that used to hang around Maia. He was a tall, brown-skinned rocker-look boy with long, dark hair that tumbled over his forehead and down his neck in curls, and had long, thick eyelashes I envied. He was broad-shouldered and slim, but muscular, with high cheekbones and startling hazel-green eyes. On both arms, he had tattoos that looked like scrolling script winding around his skin.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked, confused, "Wait a minute…Maia, are you bleeding?"

Maia lifted a hand and covered the slash along her eye as casually as she could, "Tripped over a…desk…um, Jordan, we've just got some…girl talk to… talk about. I'll be with you in a second."

Jordan still looked confused, but he was obviously to in love to argue. He took a last bewildered look at her and disappeared around the corner.

I turned to her, "Puppy love?"

"Shut up," Maia snarled. Then she composed herself and took one deep breath, "Coffee. Do you want coffee?"

I looked at her incredulously, "Seriously?"

Maia didn't look like she was joking around. After studying her face for a while, I nodded, "Sure. No sugar, no milk?"

"I remember," Maia said stiffly, "Just like Jace."

Before I had the chance to answer, she was walking away.

"So, I guess it's too late for an apology," Maia passed me a ceramic mug across the kitchen counter. Black, just the way I liked it.

Just the way Jace liked it.

"Correct," I took a long sip, and then paused to wonder if she'd poisoned it. Probably not. Maia was a girl of honor and all that bullshit. She wasn't sneaky, like some of the other girls in the team I could think of.

_Calm, Clary, Isabelle Lightwood will get what's coming to her. Eventually._

Maia chugged her three sugar, full cream coffee and then wiped the remains off her lips with her sleeve, "So, I guess you're here to get even."

I laughed out loud, "Even? By just killing you? That's what you think is _even?_" I leaned in, glaring at her, "If I wanted to get _even, _you'd have to be pregnant. Then, just when you'd grown on that unattractive lump in your stomach, just when you learned to love it, I'd have to cut it out of you, killing it, then slit your throat, then go upstairs and slit the throat of your pretty boyfriend. _That _would be even. Understood?"

Maia slammed her coffee cup down in the sink, "You won't hurt him. Please," she looked up at me desperately, "Look Clary, we never got on back_ then_, but I promise you, I never wanted to harm you or your child. I had orders. And if I could go back in a time machine and change it all, _I would. _I'm a different person now, Clary. I haven't seen or heard from any of _them_ since the wedding hijack, I'm not even leading the lycanthropes anymore as you can probably see , I don't…"

"You can stop right there," I interrupted, "_Bitch. _You think I care? Just because I have no desire to murder you in front of your boyfriend doesn't mean that telling me how you're a good little puppy now will change anything. _You and I have unfinished business. _And not a goddamned fucking thing you've done in the subsequent four years, with the squad or not, is going to change that."

Maia cocked her head, "So when do you suggest we finish this business, Fray? Or are you still going by Gray these days?"

I scolded, "I don't know. When _do _you want to die, Roberts?"

Maia folded her arms, "Tonight. There's a basketball court three blocks down from here. We meet there in all black."

"Too scared to be seen?" I asked.

"No, bitch, I don't want us to be interrupted," Maia snarled, "Want another coffee?"

"Sure."

"Want something to eat?"

I cracked my knuckles against the table, "If you're offering."

Maia turned away and swung open the fridge, fumbling around inside it for a while.

"So, you haven't heard from any of them? Never?" I asked, taking another sip of my coffee.

"Well," Maia turned to face me, "Sebastian Morgenstern did come over. Really early, ages ago. He asked me if I was ever coming back, and I told him I wasn't. He wished me the best for my future. I haven't seen him, or the rest of them, since."

I paused, then choose to change the subject, "So. Weapon of choice- are you going to use Satan's gift to you or the sword you used to cut off my fiancées head four years ago?"

Maia growled, "I still can't believe you left Jace for one of them."

"He was a very nice man," I protested, "And he didn't lead a band of demon hunters and cold hearted assassins, which was a plus."

"Kiss my ass, Fray," Maia leaned further into the fridge.

"Weapon of choice, I'd prefer if you stayed human, although under the circumstances I'd understand if you didn't comply."

Maia snorted, "Very funny, Fray," she turned around with a large plate of cucumber sandwiches on a white plate, "Very _FUNNY!_"

Suddenly the sandwiches exploded in a volcano of bread and cucumber as Maia pulled the trigger on the gun concealed beneath the pile. The bullets lodged into the wall right beside my head, barely missing me.

Maia Roberts cheated. Trying to shot my through a plate of cucumber sandwiches? Where was that honor I respected her for?

Before she could aim again, I dropped my coffee cup and kick it toward her. As she ducked to move out of the way of the flying mug, my fingers dove to the rack of knives on the kitchen bench and let one fly through the air. Distracted by my coffee cup smashing on the wall behind her, she didn't have time to react before the knife sunk into her chest, all the way to the handle.

She made a sort of squeak slash croak noise and blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, spilling onto her shirt. There was a squealing noise as she slid down the fridge and collapsed in a heap on the floor. She spasmed slightly, and then was still.

I walked over to her and tugged the knife out. Blood pooled through her shirt and puddled out on the floor.

"Maia?"

I turned. Jordan stood at the door, mouth gaping open at me, as I stood among the remains of the cucumber sandwiches and over the blood of his now deceased girlfriend, holding the knife that had killed her. His eyes travelled around the room, and then snapped back to me.

I let out a sigh, "Look. Jordan?"

He didn't move.

"I had no desired to kill her in front of you. But trust me," I looked down at Maia's pale face, "Your girlfriend had it coming."

His hands were shaking.

"If you feel raw about it, attack now," I told him, "But I will warn you. I will not hesitate to kill you, or anyone else who gets in the way of my revenge. Understood?"

Jordan did not take his eyes off me as he shifted his body sideways, out of the doorway. I nodded, and walked past him toward the doors.

Suddenly I felt his heavy hand on my shoulder. I tensed, ready to fight.

"Go," he said softly, "But keep looking behind you. I'll let you get your revenge, but I want my revenge too. This is not me letting you go. This is my letting you get ready."

I nodded slightly, "I'll be waiting."

He watched me all the way out the door.

I hopped in the Shagin' Wagon and grabbed the Death List. I ran a black line through number one, Maia Roberts. My eyes travelled down to the second name on the list.

Magnus Bane.

My foot pressed down on the gas and I flew down the street. Towards my next target.

Destination: Brooklyn.


End file.
